


maledictus ursi

by hiraethcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curse Breaking, Curses, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 21:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14529498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethcas/pseuds/hiraethcas
Summary: rowena curses castiel as a teddy bear. he's stuck like that for about a century until the winchesters land a case right in oregon, where he lives.





	maledictus ursi

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it fucking sucks lol

“No! Please, no, I'm begging you,” the boy cried out, tears spilling freely over his flushed cheeks. “Nothing can save you,” the witch snarled, a devilish smirk pulling at her lips. “No one. You were damned the moment you were born, boy, live up to it.” The witch raised her hands, an intense glow building up in her palm as she recited some sort of ancient spell. With one final word, she expelled the power that had been building up in her palms, watching as the black-haired boy in front of her fell to the floor with jerking movements. Although patience wasn't the witch’s strong suit, she stayed behind to see what was left of the child. It took several hours, but when she came back to the room she'd left him in, he was only a stuffed bear, with empty eyes and a beautiful blue ribbon wrapped around the bears neck that seemed to mock him. The witch, Rowena, had cast a spell that would keep him dormant for a year, and the day he'd come back to life was the set day for this little town to come crashing down. She let out a quiet chuckle and left the mansion, replaying her vision of the plan she'd made in her head.   
\---a year lol  
When Castiel first awoke, he was bewildered. It was hard to move, and his surroundings were rotted with age, covered in all sorts of life, which included insects and plants that had grown and taken over just about everything. He ripped free from some vines, shaking them off and standing up. What was going on? Castiel approached one of the windows, pulling at the lock only for the window to come loose with a loud groan. He looked outside the window, hanging onto the windowsill, his eyes widening. Everything was in ashes, burnt and scattered. Some things were still smoking, thick clouds of it settling high in the air. Castiel had gasped, or at least tried to, and that's when he realized something was up. He sniffed the air and another weak cry tried to leave him. He couldn't smell anything, he couldn't even breathe, and it was okay, but it wasn't. Looking down at his hands, the poor boy felt what would've been tears if his eyes weren't plastic. Castiel was a teddy bear. Oh, dear.  
\---   
The first few weeks were eventful for the cursed boy, who was a trainwreck of emotions at first. After a while, Castiel had grown used to his new life, toddling around the house. He couldn't occupy himself with the basic necessities of life considering he was a large stuffed bear, so most of his days consisted of playing games by himself and making up stories in his head. Days turned into months, months turned into years, and before Castiel knew it, a full century had passed since his town was destroyed. Most days he would lay dormant, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. It kept him mentally stable, though.  
\---  
“So get this,” Sam said, typing a few things on his laptop. “Some teenagers were out 'exploring’ about a week ago and found this old town in Oregon, and they fucked around there for a while, but got scared off when they tried entering this old mansion. Apparently the town was burned down a century ago, by what some people said was a supernatural phenomenon. It says here that when interviewed, they said 'purple flames engulfed the town and brought it down to nothing.’ Anyways, these kids got spooked by a ghost that's still in the mansion, probably a victim of the fire.” Sam looked over to Dean, an expectant look on his face. “Alright, uhh… we can go check it out this weekend, I gotta wrap up the case here and we'll be on our way.”   
Sam nodded and closed his laptop, reaching for his bag. “I was thinking maybe that 'supernatural phenomenon’ was witches,” Sam said, slipping his laptop into the bag. Dean nodded in agreement. “Purple fire, right? Probably some spell,” he said, giving a small shrug. “We could probably try tracking the witch down after we finish up in that town- where'd you say it was?” “Oregon,” Sam replied, leaning back in his chair. “Okay, well, when we're finished in Oregon we can look,” Dean concluded the conversation, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “I'm gonna go out, get a couple beers. You wanna come along?” Sam paused for a moment as if considering the offer and nodded, grabbing his laptop bag and tucking it away before leaving the hotel room with Dean.  
\---  
Castiel tottered up the stairs, cringing at every creak and groan he made as he made his way up. He'd been dormant for the past week, but he had gotten up when there was a meteor shower. He laid outside for a little while, watching the white streaks stretch across the sky until they started to fade and the morning approached. The stars faded and the night receded, ebbing away as the sun rose. After that, Castiel went back inside. The boy was now sitting by the windowsill, looking up at the sky. Dawn is cracking, as his father would say jokingly. Let the sun give you his happiness. Let him welcome you with his warmth. Castiel drew out a sigh, albeit mentally. Memories of his father were painful.  
\---  
“Woahh, Sam, you got antlers,” Dean slurred, giggling drunkenly as he stumbled into the younger brother’s arms. “Dean, come on, we gotta get you into bed,” Sam groaned, ushering Dean along as the shorter male babbled on about how his fingers looked like little penises. Sam rolled his eyes and opened the Impala’s passenger door, helping Dean in and closing the door before he could escape from him. Sam quickly got into the Impala and started her up, pushing Dean off of his shoulder as he complained about Sam not worthy enough to drive Baby. “Yeesh, Dean, fuck off,” Sam joked, chuckling as he made a turn. “Almost there, just down the road,” Sam said, looking out for the hotel sign and brightening up when he found it. As quickly as he could without breaking the speed limit, Sam drove back to the hotel, pulling haphazardly into a parking spot and getting Dean out. It was tough getting the man to wake up and get out of the car, but once Sam got his older brother out it was easy to get him back into their hotel room. “Sammyyy,” Dean kicked the blankets away, pouting like a child. “God, go to fucking bed, you drunk bastard,” Sam groaned, shoving his face into his own pillow. “Prick,” Dean murmured rather loudly, and let his head hit his pillow.  
\---(timeskip)  
“Ugh, Sam, never let me drink like that again,” Dean grumbled, grabbing a couple weapons and tossing them into his duffle bag. “I am so not ready. Like, at all. Alcohol fucked me hard last night, and like, right now is the aftermath. My brain is limping.” Sam chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “C'mon, let's get going,” Sam said, standing up and grabbing his stuff. “It's gonna be a few hour drive,” he told Dean, opening the door and waiting for the shorter male to hurry up.   
\---  
Castiel looked up at the ceiling, a melancholy feeling washing over him. His vision was fading- he still didn't know how he could even see with brown, plastic eyes, but for a while, he could. The boy wanted to cry, but couldn't, and it aggravated him. The cursed boy stood up and waddled around a bit, tugging at the rotted blue ribbon around his neck. Soft paws trembled as he stumbled, and if he could, tears would be spilling down his cheeks. His muzzle stunk of old age, and everything about him was… he didn't know how to put it. It wasn't the same.  
A couple of clattering noises echoed from downstairs, catching Castiel's attention. The boy peeked out from the doorway, rushing to hide behind the wall when he saw two tall men rummaging through damaged things downstairs. If he had a heart to beat, it would be going crazy right now. He could hear one of them, most likely the shorter one, coming up the stairs. Castiel panicked, and he couldn't go dormant when he was stressed. He laid down in the corner of the room but couldn't stop twitching, a bit of stuffing slipping out one of the many flaws littering his “fur.” Castiel watched in fear as the man explored his room, busting doors open with a gun raised high. Oh, the damage a weapon like that could do to poor Castiel. He squirmed a bit and caught the stranger's attention, his posture stiffening as the man stepped close to him. “Hey, Sam! I think something's up with this stuffed bear,” he yelled, grabbing the bears arm and pulling it. Castiel pulled back without realizing it, running off before Dean could catch him. He stumbled down the stairs and fell in a heap at the floor, his shoulders shaking. “Dude, do you think it's possessed?” Sam whispered to Dean, his eyebrows furrowed. Castiel shoved himself against the wall behind him, looking from the man who had touched him to who apparently was Sam. Don't hurt me, he wanted to plead, but couldn't voice himself as the two hunters closed in on him. “What are you, demon? Angel? Ghost?” Dean said, and Sam hit his shoulder with a scowl. “What? It'd be helpful to know!” The shorter male said as if it were common sense, then looked back to Castiel. The boy pointed at his muzzle and throat with a fluffy paw and then made an “x” with his arms, although his eyes didn't do the hope thrumming throughout his mind any justice. “You can't speak?” Dean asked, looking at Sam with a confused expression on his face. Sam shrugged, lowering his gun briefly. “I don't think it means any harm. I mean, we could be dead right now.” Dean was skeptical but still tucked his gun away, pulling his jacket and shirt over the gun. “Okay, well, you're not gonna hurt us. What are you, then?” Castiel held his paw out and pretended to write on it with his finger. “You'll write it out?” Sam asked to confirm, and Castiel nodded. Sam left the mansion, leaving Dean and Castiel. “You know anything about the fire that happened a century ago?” Dean asked, glaring out the door as he waited for Sam to return. Castiel nodded. Dean looked back out the door, seeing that the taller male was on his way back with a notepad and pen. “You took freaking forever, man,” Dean whispered when Sam was back, glaring daggers at his brother. Sam gave the pen and paper to Castiel, who wrote down about the fire, which Dean had asked about, and then proceeded to write his backstory- well, a brief summary of it. After Sam and Dean both read it, they looked to Castiel with sympathetic eyes. “I think we can help you,” Sam said quietly, looking over to Dean, who nodded. “You see, uh, Rowena, that witch who cursed you? We know her. Getting her to meet up with us won't be too easy, but we can get it done,” Sam said, giving Castiel a reassuring smile. “How do you want us to do this? We can bring you along, or leave you here, unless you don't feel safe here.” Castiel thought for a moment. Bogging the brothers down with his presence wasn't what the boy had in mind, so he shook his head and pointed upstairs. Dean gave Sam a warm look and turned back to Castiel with a nod. “Now, you said you knew about the ghost here, right?” Dean inquired, checking the pad to make sure. Castiel nodded. “Did he have anything he was close to, something he'd want to keep?” Castiel held a paw up, toddling up the stairs. After a few moments, he came back down, a pocket watch laying on his paw. He motioned for Sam to grab it, who tucked it away into his pocket. “Okay, we'll leave you alone for now,” Sam told the cursed boy, checking his jacket for the pocket watch. With that, the two left, leaving Castiel alone again. He was used to it, right? He could deal with it.  
\---  
Out back by the Impala, the Winchesters had burned the watch, leaving it a goopy, molten mess on the ground. “Gets rid of that problem,” Dean muttered, squishing the melted metal with his boot. “How're we gonna get Rowena? Let alone make her reverse the spell?” Dean shrugged, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. Sam watched with tired eyes. “Dean, you told me you'd stop.” The older male shrugged again, pulling a cigarette out and tucking the carton away. He held the cigarette out and Sam sighed wearily, grabbing his lighter and flicking it until a small flame lit the cigarette. “Thanks,” Dean said before bringing the cigarette to his lips. “Dean…” the shorter male shook his head. “Okay.”   
\---  
“...Et ad congregandum... eos coram me.” Sam struck the match he'd been holding and threw it into the bowl, his lips pressed into a firm line. Dean grabbed a cloth and brought it to Sam, wrapping it around the wound on his left palm.   
“Hello, boys.” Dean's face stiffened as Crowley appeared before them. “What do you need this time?” He said, accent heavy on his words as he spoke. “Rowena,” Dean deadpanned, his expression tense. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips. “Well, what do you need with Mother?”   
“She cast a spell on some town a century ago that killed everyone, and then cursed this kid and trapped him in a stuffed bear. We need her to reverse the spell she put on the kid,” Dean said, shifting his weight. “I don't think she'll take to your idea well,” Crowley smirked, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Can you get her to talk to us? We already have our own plan.” The king sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “As much as I want to see that wretch bested by the idiotic likes of you two, she's not responding to me right now,” Crowley said, looking down at his nails with an oddly disapproving look. “What? What do you mean?” Sam scoffed, looking over to Dean with an expression saying “if we can't get to her, what the hell do we do?”   
“What makes you think I've got any idea, moose? God knows, that whore is probably out with some guy right now,” Crowley began to shout, his face growing impossibly red. “Why, if you're so set on finding her, do it yourself!” With that, Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared, leaving the Winchesters upset and annoyed. Moments later, however, the table they'd set the bowl on to summon Crowley was burning; there were letters- no, words- being seared into the cheap wood. Dean waited for the table to finish before leaning over to read what was written. “If I… if I hear word of her… I'll ring.” Sam sighed and shook his head, grabbing the bowl off the table to dispose of the leftover contents. “God, he's touchy today,” he let out with a sigh, scooping the used ingredients out and rinsing the bowl out. “Okay, well, in the meantime, we have no idea where she is.” Dean grabbed his stuff and put it away, zipping his bag up and tossing it under the bed. “We'll find something,” Sam assured him, although even he wasn't sure what they were to do.  
\---  
Castiel tapped on the ground with his paw, making up an imaginary beat as he lay there. When would the Winchesters be back? Oh, they'd only been there for a few minutes and Castiel still missed their presence. It'd been such a long time since Castiel had seen a living human being, and they were gone anyways. He turned over onto his belly and laid his head down, closing his eyes.  
\---  
“Ciao, boys.” Dean whipped around at the sound of the kings voice, his eyes narrowing. “Or rather, squirrel. Where is moose?” “None of your business. What’re you here for?” Dean turned to face Crowley, his hands balled into fists. “Heard Rowena was out fishing at a bar the other night. Managed to build off that. She's in Oregon right now, meeting with some witch friends. I suggest if you're so set on finding her, you'd better leave now,” Crowley spoke, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.   
\---  
“Cas?”  
Dean stepped into the old mansion cautiously, looking around for the large teddy bear. He turned and stepped up the stairs, wrinkling his nose at the creaking noises he made as his weight shifted to a rotten step. “Cas…” Dean stood in the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed. He spotted the boy on the floor, laying limp. Stepping closer, he prodded the bears arm. “Castiel, come on, Sam and I got good news,” he murmured. Dean knelt down and propped the bear up, a confused look on his face. “Cas!” The bear trembled a bit and blinked, looking up at Dean. “S-Sorry,” the boy mentally mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I thought stuffed animals don't sleep,” Dean joked. Castiel shrugged. “Okay, well… we found Rowena. We've yet to convince her to reverse the spell, but we're working on it,” Dean said, giving a reassuring pat to Cas’ back. The boy nodded, looking down at his lap. “Do you wanna come with me? I mean, we can use you to convince Rowena.” Castiel thought for a moment and agreed with hesitation, turning his head to look up at Dean again. “Alright, c'mon,” Dean grunted, picking the bear up and leaving the room, trotting back down the stairs and out of the mansion. “You can sit in the back,” he muttered, heading straight for the Impala and unlocking one of the back doors. He let Castiel get in by himself, closing the door for him and going to the driver's side, hopping in. “Hey, we're heading back to Rowena, right?” Sam asked from the passenger seat, turning to Dean. The shorter male nodded.  
\---  
“Rowena!”  
The witch came to consciousness with a grumble, tugging against the restraints that kept her from escaping or harming the brothers. “What?” She spat, her lips curling into a snarl. “We got a little gift for you,” Sam said sweetly in a mocking tone, motioning for Dean to come into the room. The older brother carried a large, stuffed bear, with glassy, clean eyes and a fresh, blue ribbon that was tied around his neck in a bow. The scars were sewed together, though quite poorly. Dean carried the sleeping boy in and set him down in front of Rowena, tapping his shoulder to wake him up.   
As if a switch had been flipped, Castiel awoke, his body coming to life. The first thing he noticed was Sam and Dean, but as he realized he was sitting right in front of the witch who cursed him, he trembled and almost fell backwards. He looked to Sam and Dean again, panicked and shaky. “It's okay,” Dean murmured, sending a cold glare Rowena's way when the witch smirked knowingly. Castiel turned back to the redhead, fumbling with his paws nervously. He looked down at his lap, squeezing his eyes shut when all he was met with was faux, matted fur. Both Sam and Dean's gaze were fixed on Rowena, their faces pulled into a tense expression. “Look what you did to him,” Sam growled, stepping closer to both Rowena and Castiel. “100 years, Rowena.” The man's voice tightened at the mention of the witch’s name. He knelt down behind Castiel, watching Rowena attentively. “What reason did you even have?” Dean asked scornfully, exaggerating his frustration with jerking arm and hand movements. “His family owed me,” Rowena said simply, pushing her nose up at the two brothers. “They could do nothing for me, so I did what I had to,” she continued, flipping her red curls over her shoulder with a jerk of her head. “So what, you became Rumpelstiltskin and took their firstborn? Rowena, I didn't think you would ever go that low.” “I didn't take him, you moron. I just cursed him,” she said as if it were any better, looking from Sam to Dean, and finally over to Castiel. “I mean, I could've killed you right then and there,” she offered to Castiel, a falsely hopeful smile on her face. That would've been better, the boy wanted to say, opening his eyes again and looking up. His nervous habit was to tug at and play with the bow around his neck, but Dean had gotten a new one and he didn't want to ruin or dirty it. “You can do better, Rowena. And besides, the kid's already spent a century wallowing in his self-pity, can't you let him go by now?” Rowena shook her head. “There's a reason why I didn't put a limit on his curse,” she rationalized, her Scottish accent thickening as her voice raised. “Don't you think he's suffered enough?” Sam squinted at Rowena, a frustrated and unexplainable feeling bubbling in his veins. Rowena gave an apathetic hum and shrugged, a taunting smile gracing her lips. “Well, if you don't care, why don't you just help us and reverse the curse?” Dean now stepped closer, standing next to Castiel as he looked down at Rowena. “I mean, come on, by now you've got to see that this is pointless.”  
“What would be in it for me?” The witch said after a few long moments, looking back over to Sam. “I don't know, your life? We could easily hand you over to Crowley,” Dean cut in, his confidence growing as the witch began to think her decisions over. “Very well then,” Rowena said slowly, nodding to herself. “You'll need to untie me so I can perform the reversing spell, though,” Rowena quickly added, looking up at the Winchesters. Sam turned to Dean, a bitchy look pulling at his features as he motioned for Castiel to move aside. He grabbed Rowena and hauled her up, grunting and pushing her along as Dean went down to talk to Castiel. “It's gonna be okay, Cas,” he whispered, petting the bear's fur back gently. “We're getting there.”  
\---  
“Sic… fiat…. semper!”   
A few moments passed.  
“It will take up to a full day,” she informed the brothers, cleaning up her setup with brisk movements. “Check on him afterwards, wait with him if you will. He'll be in pain, and his body will be in shock, but if you help him along, he'll be alright.”   
Dean glanced down at his hands, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously.  
“Okay.”  
\---  
“You go first,” he whispered, nudging Sam's foot. “Jerk,” the taller brother muttered, receiving a quiet “bitch” in response. Sam entered through the doorway of the mansion, calling out for Castiel. “Cas? Are you there?” They heard a quiet shuffling noise and a human cry. Dean's eyes widened. He stood there for a moment, staring at Sam before he ran up the stairs to see Castiel. “Cas!”  
The boy was a mess, sobbing and writhing. Stuffing littered the floor, rags that used to make up the teddy bears fur strewn across the ground.   
He had pale, milky skin, his cheeks flushed pink. He had a white button up on, and Dean supposed at one point it wasn't so old and ugly. The cuffs were buttoned, taut around his wrists, the sleeves of the shirt puffed out and loose, modeling fashion of the late 1800’s. The buttons on the shirt were done all the way to the top, but the shirt was so old that it wasn't stretched tight around his neck like it would've been in it's appropriate time. He had pants that settled high on his waist, his shirt tucked neatly into these pants despite how much time had passed already. Black boots with worn soles came to his knee, scuffed and dirty. The black-haired boy was kneeling on the ground, and Dean could see that parts of him were still connected with the teddy bear. He rushed to the young boys side, helping Castiel into his arms. “D-Dean?” He whimpered, looking up at him with watery blue eyes. The older male had a moment to examine Castiel's face. He had high cheekbones and plush, pink lips, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rowena meant it when she said it'd hurt, Dean thought, thumbing the boys tears away. “It's gonna be okay, Cas, I got you. You're gonna be okay.”  
The boy let his head rest against Dean's chest, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he let himself fall asleep in the man's arms.  
\---  
“Dean, he's gonna be alright, you're worrying for nothing.”  
“I don't know that! Did you see the kind of pain he was in last night? He could get sick- hell, he could be sick right now! You're not getting what I'm trying to say. You weren't there to help him.”  
“Whatever,” Sam muttered, turning away from his brother.   
“Whatever? That's what this kid means to you- whatever?”  
Castiel turned to face the feuding brothers, ignoring the aches and pains in his lower abdomen. Sam turned to Dean with an annoyed look on his face before looking back to Cas.   
“I'm sorry if we woke you,” he spoke softly, brushing hair behind his ear as he let his expression ease. “It's alright,” Castiel mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He hadn't slept for decades… at least, not really. “And Dean… it's okay. I know you're worried, but I'm going to be okay.”  
“See?” Sam hissed, turning his head to face Dean. “Jerk,” the younger brother whispered under his breath. “Bitch,” Dean replied with a forced, sarcastic smile, turning on his heel and leaving the room. “Just watch, he'll be back in like five minutes,” Sam told Castiel before leaving himself. 

The black-haired boy looked down at the bedsheets covering his legs and paused, his hands shaking. He wasn't sure if he was ready but pulled the sheet away anyways, sucking in a breath of fresh air as he looked down at his own body. So long.   
Too long.  
\---  
(bunker)  
“How's it feeling?” Sam asked one morning. “I'm feeling okay,” Castiel said in response, looking around the room. “Where's Dean? He's usually with you.” “Oh, he got drunk last night. He's hungover right now, so, uhhh…” Castiel nodded, getting up from the table and grabbing his glass of water. “Hope you're doing better,” Sam called out, and Castiel smiled to himself. 

Sauntering down the hall, Castiel looked for the number 11 on one of the many doors he passed. “15,” he muttered aloud, looking down the hall to 11. He glanced down to a piece of crumpled paper in his grasp, reading it to himself quietly. “Room 11; ring if you need me.” Castiel sighed softly and walked up to the door, rapping lightly on it. “Dean?” He called out, leaning against the doorframe. “It's Castiel…” The boy heard a few shuffling noises before Dean came to the door, opening it just a crack. “Yeah, what?” He grumbled out, voice rough and underused. Castiel shivered. Sam was right when he said Dean was hungover. “I, uh… I heard you had a, u-um, rough night,” Castiel stuttered out, fumbling with his words nervously. “I just-”   
Dean grabbed Castiel by the shirt sleeve, pulling him into the room and closing the door. “Quit worrying, kid. I'm not gonna rip your head off.” The older man was tidying his room up, putting things in place. “S-Sorry,” Castiel mumbled, looking down at his feet. “Why’re you worried about me, anyways? I mean, I'm wondering why you're still here. You seem perfectly fine, and you've been a teddy bear for practically a century, so why aren't you back out there?” Castiel thought for a moment, watching as Dean propped a pocket knife onto the shelf above his bed. “Like you said, Dean, it's been a c-century, I can't jump in and think there won't be consequences.” Dean nodded, shoving a few things under his bed.   
“You're right.”  
\---  
“How old are you?”   
It was like the question had dropped out of the blue.  
Castiel wasn’t even sure, although he knew he wasn’t eleven anymore. “I don’t know how to answer that question,” was his belated response a day later. Dean looked at him like he had an extra head. “How don’t you know?” the man asked, looking at Castiel as if he’d asked him what 2+2 was and the boy had answered 7. “Well, I assume aging is warped when you’re cursed as a stuffed animal. I was 11 back in 1898, do you suppose that I am still 11 now?”  
Dean fell silent for several moments, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m gonna go ask Sam,” he finally said, getting up from his seat on the edge of his bed and heading for the door. “What will he do?” Castiel interjected, turning his body to face Dean. “Lots,” the older man replied, and left Castiel in his room.   
\---  
“17.”  
“He’s 17? Only 6 years?”   
“I guess so,” said Sam with a small shrug. “It’s not just simple math, it’s the curse and y’know, everything surrounding it.” Dean muttered something under his breath and got up from the chair he was sitting in, grabbing the beer he’d let sit on the table. “I’m gonna go check on Cas, see how he’s doing.”   
“Alright,” Sam smirked, watching as Dean left the room.  
\---  
“Hey, Cas. Just checking up on you, do you need anything?”   
Dean stood outside the boy’s door, waiting for an answer.  
“I’m fine, and no, I don’t require anything as of now.”   
God, he’d have to teach this kid some modern English, he sounded so formal. “Alright, just… if you need anything, help yourself, don’t break anything. I’m gonna go get my beauty sleep now.”   
\---  
Castiel rummaged around in the fridge after Sam showed him how it worked, finding nothing he knew or wanted. Only after checking in Sam’s corner of the kitchen did he find some bananas, which weren’t enough although he supposed they were something compared to nothing.


End file.
